Vampire Academy:Training with Rose 2
by xXBleeding-WingsXx
Summary: Dimitri P.O.V. The scene where he fixes her hand, talks about his past and tells Rose to wear her hair up. From the first book. Not as bad as it sounds. Second story, please read. One-shot.


Once again I woke up for my early practices with Rose, yet now, I don't seem to mind them as much. Who am I kidding? - I don't mind them at all!

We started with running, as per usual. I ran with her, it was…nice. I gave instructions to her sort-of gently. Rose was strong, but she had enough to deal with without my added stress.

When we had done our laps, I lead her through an offence exercise, allowing her to use any weapon she can find to attack me with. It didn't surprise me when she landed a couple blows on me, though she did stagger after every hit. It didn't discourage her, though. She always recovered and came back at me with the same determination.

I called a break soon after her determination shifted into something else. Her eyes became darker; her attacks were more sloppy and fueled with rage and anger, not the skill and technique I had taught her.

We carried the equipment we'd used on the field and returned everything to the supply room.

As she reached in to put down her weapon, I caught a glimpse of red on her hands.

The skin had turned raw and chapped from the cold Montana air, and in some places it bled.

"Your hands." I cussed out in Russian. It seems that lately I had been doing that a lot more since I met Rose; I used to only swear when the situation demanded it. Though one can argue that the marring on Rose's hands is a demanding situation- they were too perfect to ruin. "Where are your gloves?"

She looked down to her hands. In places, new blisters were red, in others, old blisters had swelled and burst and new ones formed on them.

It gave a new meaning to blisters on blisters.

"Don't have any. Never needed them in Portland."

I swore again. 'That doesn't do you any good here' I wanted to tell her. I beckoned her to a chair, while I got a first aid kit from a near-by shelf.

"We'll get you some." I promised her as I wiped away the blood with a wet cloth.

"This is only the start, isn't it?"

"Of what?"

"Me. Turning into Alberta. Her…and the other female guardians. They're all leathery and stuff. Fighting and training and always being outdoors-they aren't pretty anymore." She paused. "This…this life. It destroys them. Their looks, I mean."

I didn't answer right away. How could I? I sat and thought of her grown up; like all the other female guardians, she would need to be stoic and responsible, ghostlike and unfeeling, hard and worn. As much as I tried to picture it, the image never came. I just saw what was in front of me: A carefree, confident, emotional, soft and beautiful teenage girl. No, young woman.

I looked into her warm, dark eyes. "It won't happen to you. You're too…" I couldn't just repeat what I thought. But what if I had? Would she have appreciated the compliment? Would she have been disgusted with my infatuation with her?

"It won't happen to you." I reassured her.

I paid all my attention to her hands. At least she could acknowledge the unspoken compliment. I knew she would have picked up in her mind where I had left off. Did she want me to tell her she was beautiful, that the way her lips twitch when she sees me heading towards her are my own heaven and when her eyes meet mine, I know she sees through my mask? Would she felt the same if I told her that with her, I sometimes didn't need to put up a front, because she knows I'm lying. She knows me, too well in my opinion. In these short weeks she had been back to the academy, this one person is on my mind even when I don't realize it, she fills my dreams with her perfection, she crosses my mind when people tell me I need a woman, and worst of all: she doesn't and can't even know it!

Her words snapped me out of my longing, and I faintly remembered we were having a conversation.

"It happened to my mom. She used to be beautiful. I guess she still is, sort of. But not the way she used to be." The bitterness leaked off her next words. "Haven't seen her in a while. She could look completely different for all I know."

It was easy to pick out the venom. "You don't like your mother." I didn't need to ask, it was too obvious.

"You noticed that, huh?"

"You barely know her."

"That's the point. She abandoned me. She left me to be raised by the Academy."

I found a jar of salve and began to rub it into her now-clean wounds. They were smooth, not quite as calloused as a guardians hand should be. But maybe that's why I found them all the more appealing.

"You say that…but what else should she have done? I know you want to be a guardian. I know how much it means to you. Do you think she feels any differently? Do you think she should have raised you when you'd spend most of your life here anyway?" I reasoned with her.

I was sure if she was in the same position, Rose would chose to guard over raising a child.

"Are you saying I'm a hypocrite?"

Yes. "I'm just saying maybe you shouldn't be so hard on her. She's a very respected dhamphir woman. She's set you on the path to be the same."

"It wouldn't kill her to visit more," she muttered. "But I guess you're right. A little. It could have been worse I suppose. I could have been raised with blood whores."

I couldn't help but look up. The term 'blood whore' always got to me. I could never think of my mother as a whore. It also surprised me because of the rumors going around of Rose being a blood whore.

"I was raised in a dhamphir commune," I used the lighter word; my mother was _not_ a whore! "They aren't as bad as you think."

"Oh. I didn't mean-" I cut her off.

"It's alright." I looked back to her soft, warm hands in mine, wishing I didn't need an excuse to hold them, but to hold them because it was what two people do.

"So, did you, like, have a family there? Grow up with them?"

I nodded. "My mother and two sisters. I didn't see them much after I went to school, but we still keep in touch. Mostly, the communities are about family. There's a lot of love there, no matter what stories you've heard."

She glanced down, and I couldn't help but want to left her chin to see what she was hiding from me.

"Yeah, but… isn't it weird? Aren't there a lot of Moroi men visiting to, you know?..."

Unfortunately, I did know. I rubbed circles into her hands. "Sometimes."

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up something bad…"

I thought for a minute, of Rose in my house. My mother fussing over her, my sisters in conversation with her, me by her side. I thought of my nephew and niece and whatever gender of the baby yet to come. I could picture it all too clearly, and I liked what I saw.

"Actually… you probably wouldn't think it's bad. You don't know your father, do you?"

She shook her head. "No. All I know is he must have had wicked cool hair."

I glanced up, my eyes sweeping over her, and not just her hair. Though I couldn't deny her hair, it looked soft and gentle to the touch. Yes. He must have." I had to look back down from the sudden urge to see if my imagination does it justice. "I knew mine."

She froze. "Really? Most Moroi guys don't stay-I mean some do, but you know usually they just-"

Unfortunately, again, I did know. "Well, he liked my mother." I couldn't help the distaste in my voice. "And he visited her a lot. He's my sisters' father too. But when he came… well, he didn't treat my mother very well. He did some horrible things."

"Like…" She hesitated, as if asking permission to carry on. "Blood-whore things?"

"Like beating-her-up kind of things," I replied no emotion left in my voice.

I shifted the images of my pasted and focused on the finished bandages wrapped around the hands I still held. I didn't want to let go. In my mind I told myself she was holding my hands to comfort me, it took away the reality where I actually just hadn't let them go. Maybe in a way, her not pulling away was her way of comforting me? Or maybe my grip was just too tight? I hoped for the former.

"Oh God," She squeezed my hands. I automatically squeezed back, glad she didn't let go. "That's horrible. And she… she just let it happen?"

My memories swelled back into my head. The late nights, the bruises, the cuts, the blood. "She did." And then others, him on the ground, battered beyond recognition, the fear in his eyes, my satisfaction when he did not return. I smiled, though it was not out of happiness. "But I didn't."

Her eyes lit up and excitement radiated through her features. "Tell me; _tell me_ you beat the crap out of him."

That was putting it mildly. My smile grew at both her excitement and my own. "I did."

"Wow." Her expression was awed. "You beat up your dad. I mean, that's really horrible… what happened? But, _wow_. You really are a god."

"What?" Most students in the school feared me; guardians respect me, but a god? Sure I'd heard it among some of the novices, but did Rose really think that with them? It must be, because the way she had said it showed it had been discussed with her at least once.

"Uh, nothing." She had! I felt overwhelmed by the fact that while I thought of Rose, she thought of me.

"How old were you?" She was trying to change the subject.

"Thirteen." She thought I was a god.

"You beat up your dad when you were _thirteen_?"

Usually thinking about this subject had me on edge and in the past, talking about it was a no-go. So why now, with Rose, did I feel compelled to tell her?

"It wasn't that hard. I was stronger than he was, almost as tall. I couldn't let him keep doing that. He had to learn that being royal and Moroi doesn't mean you can do anything you want to other people- even blood whores." I ended, because talking about this with Rose suddenly made me realize, yes my mother was a whore, but she was still my mother.

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

"That's why you got so upset about Jesse, isn't it? He was another royal, trying to take advantage of a dhamphir girl."

I looked away. "I got upset over that for a lot of different reasons. After all you were breaking the rules, and…" Half naked with another man, on a couch in an abandoned room. I didn't want to think how far she would have gone with the boy if I hadn't shown up. I know she wouldn't have done anything further than she would have wanted, and the argument they had that I heard through the door told me she didn't want to boy to go too far with her, but she still allowed him to get close enough for me to lose it.

She was looking into my eyes. "I know you heard what people are saying, that I-"

"I know it's not true," I answered immediately, never doubting for a second she had done any of those things.

"Yeah, but how do you-"

"Because I know you," I said, glad that it was true. "I know your character. I know you're going to be a great guardian."

"I'm glad someone does. Everyone else thinks I'm totally irresponsible."

"With the way you worry more about Lissa than yourself…" I shook my head. "No. You understand your responsibilities better than guardians twice your age. You'll do what you have to do to succeed."

She was quiet for a moment, thinking. "I don't know if I can do everything I have to do."

I raised one eyebrow, a silent gesture for her to elaborate.

"I don't want to cut my hair."

I was confused, why would she want to put scissors near that hair? "You don't have to cut your hair. It's not required."

"All the other guardian women do. They show off their tattoos."

I released her hands and leaned towards her. Slowly, as if to ask her permission, I took a lock of her hair and twisted it around my one finger. I was right- it was softer than it looked, sleek and smooth as it glided through my fingers. I could twirl it through my fingers all day, it was like our first touch, I didn't want to break away, and when I did, I needed more of her soft, gentle skin under mine.

I suddenly realized I still had her hair between my fingers and let go. My body ached from the loss of contact, though I was still giddy we had made contact at all.

"Don't cut it." I told her. I disguised my voice to hide my elation, it came out very curtly.

"But no one'll see my tattoos if I don't."

I moved to the doorway, smiling. "Wear it up."

With that I left, feeling my hand tingle from where her hair had been minutes ago. I smiled to myself again. I was in way too deep, but I was content with drwning.


End file.
